The House Dancer
by Mala in se
Summary: Kagome tries to introduce Miroku to a part of modern life she thinks he'll enjoy. Except she forgets to mention that one important rule...


A brief little one shot I dashed off that has no redeeming value regarding Miroku and certain aspects of modern culture that I think he might enjoy. I simply thought the concept was kind of amusing. Hope you do to. Enjoy. Reviews and constructive criticism are gratefully accepted. Should you notice a typo or other error, please let me know so it can be promptly corrected.  
  
Disclaimer: Inuyasha and co are the sole property of Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement is intended in their use here. All original situations and characters are property of the author. Please feel free to distribute, but give credit where it is do.  
  
The House Dancer  
  
Kagome wondered for the hundredth time as she ascended the well, how on earth she had managed to get roped into this. She pulled herself over the lip of the chasm and reached back to help her companion up. A sharp twinge hit her heart as he mindfully placed his bare hand in hers, careful she did not touch the rosary beads. Perhaps it wasn't so bad to have Miroku with her for the weekend.  
  
The monk gave her a brief nod of thanks as he emerged from the well, brushing the dust from his robes and picking up his staff from where he had hurled it previously, unable to scale the walls with it.   
  
"Come on Miroku," Kagome gestured for the Monk to follow, "I'm sure my mom has something to eat. I have to go to school tomorrow, but I could take you around in the evening…"  
  
Miroku made a non-committal "mmm" noise and followed the young Miko. To tell the truth, he was feeling somewhat trepidatious about encountering Kagome's "modern world" that always seemed to throw Inuyasha so off-kilter. Knowing he was about to enter an entire world that would be completely foreign to him, forcing his dependence on the young woman before him was making the monk distinctly uneasy.  
  
"Kagome-chan!" a woman's voice called to them as they crossed the shrine.  
  
Both figures looked up at the smiling person jogging towards them. Kagome was desperately trying to figure out how to explain Miroku and Miroku… he was staring to warm up to the Modern Tokyo.   
  
She was unlike any woman he had ever seen before and he found the exotic nature of her beauty intensely compelling. She was very tall for a woman, slim, but lush in her contours. The features of her oval face were very sharp and defined; high, full cheekbones and slim, straight little nose above full lips, her smooth, pale skin tinged with gold. Her hair was black as obsidian, pulled back messily behind her head in a tumble of thick, spiraling curls and her eyes, those large, gleaming, fascinating eyes were the most stunning shade of green.  
  
Miroku gave himself a mental shake, dragging he eyes from the shadows at the edge of her "tank-top," if he recalled Kagome's name for that delightful garment correctly, and back to the conversation between the untouchable Kagome and her brilliantly smiling acquaintance.  
  
"….I had come over here to invite you to the club tomorrow night for the costume party, but I see you already know." The woman paused to turn the full force of that smile upon Miroku for a moment. "Really, where did you find that monk's costume? It looks positively authentic."  
  
"I picked it up traveling in a little village," Miroku answered her smoothly, noting the relief on Kagome's face prompted by his vague answer.  
  
Kagome seemed to remember herself suddenly and interjected herself into the conversation before more questions could be asked. "I almost forgot. Divia, this is Miroku, my cousin from out of town. Miroku, this is my neighbor Divia."  
  
"Nice to meet you," she said, that glorious smile curving her soft lips again before turning back to Kagome. Miroku didn't mind the loss of her smile, as it gave him the opportunity to let his eyes traverse the curving indigo topography of her "jeans."   
  
"Well since this is the first time your cousin is in town, I'll put you two on the guest list. You can get in free, but you'll have to show up at 8."  
  
Kagome thanked her and she and the women fell into easy conversation for a brief moment.   
  
"I have to run, lecture and all." Divia said suddenly, backing away from them, "But it was nice to meet you. And remember, doors open at 9, all ages show but you have to be there at 8 to get in free. Hope to see you both there," she called over her shoulder, hurrying off as quickly as she came.  
  
"And who was that lovely woman, Kagome?" Miroku inquired as they headed to the house.  
  
Kagome looked skyward, knowing that question was coming. "That's Divia. She's an American, lives next door. She's here to study the language and culture for her P.h.D." Kagome plunged on, seeing the raised brows at the mention of the degree. "It's a honor awarded after a lot of study on a subject."  
  
Miroku's brow continued to be knit by confusion, "Are we to go to this 'club' tomorrow to watch her study?" Watching Kagome study was not terribly enjoyable, and he doubted watching Divia do the same would be a gratifying use of an evening no matter how lovely she was.   
  
"No," Kagome assuaged his fears quickly, thinking it a horrible way to spend the evening herself, "a club is where people go to dance and have a good time. Divia works there to pay for her training. She's a house dancer."  
  
"And what is a house dancer?" Miroku asked as they reached the door of the house.  
  
"Well a house dancer…." The young miko was cut off before she could answer by an excited, "Kagome? Is that you?" from her mother.   
  
The next few moments were a whirlwind of maternal love and joy upon seeing her baby's safe return, then introductions and questions. The concept of a house dancer was forgotten by both weary travelers.  
  
**********  
  
The next day passed without event. Kagome went off to "school," leaving Miroku in the care of her grandfather at the shrine. The two men found enough in common to get along surprisingly well and Miroku was kept easily occupied and content until the miko returned home, save for some minor difficulties with the "shower" contraption and the screeching "blender." He found her family very warm and incredibly pleasant to be around as the evening passed and they exchanged news from both past and future worlds.   
  
At seven Kagome disappeared to prepare for their night out, returning to her brother's taunts about women and their time-consuming dressing habits 45 minutes later. She was dressed in one of Sango's kimonos that she had brought home to wash in the rumbling machine he had been introduced to earlier.   
  
She exchanged a barrage of insults with her brother, pushing the monk out of the door before he could grab his staff. It wasn't until they were seated upon the barreling "train," Miroku's white-knuckled grip digging into the seat that he remembered the earlier concept.  
  
"You never answered my question Kagome, what is a house dancer?"  
  
Kagome, on the other hand, had recalled the question earlier in the day and realized immediately how much Miroku would probably enjoy the whole evening. She gave him a mischievous smile, failing to contain her giggle as she answered him, "I think you should just wait and find out yourself."  
  
Miroku sat back stiffly against the seat, knowing from her look that he would get no more information from Kagome and would be required to simply wait. He resolved to be patient and went back to focusing all his energy on keeping the "train" from killing them all. How Kagome could ride so nonchalantly was a mystery to him….  
  
**********  
  
Much to the relief of his frazzled nerves, they arrived at their stop soon after and, following a brief walk, came to a large, dark building, the door guarded by a man behind red ropes. Kagome smiled at him and gave her name and Divia's. The man studied a parchment in his hand for a moment then drew back the rope, allowing them to pass inside.  
  
Miroku's eyes traveled around the large, open room they entered with interest. Next to them was a platform with low walls and a multitude of blinking lights. A man stood within the little battlement bobbing up and down, fussing intently with the lights, a strange helmet covering only his ears stood upon his head. Kagome identified it as a DJ booth and the man as a DJ, grinning when Miroku inquired as to why the man stood behind the walls, his stance changing in anticipation of a fight. She assured him the man was not there for safety, the platform just gave him room to work while he provided the music for the club.  
  
"Kagome-chan, you look great. I love your costume!" A familiar voice called to them across the room, drawing their attention away from the "DJ."   
  
Miroku's eyes widened. Kagome really did live in a blessed and enlightened time. Divia,t he lovely woman from earlier, had shed her lovely "street" cloths and had emerged wearing more skin than he had ever seen on a woman still clothed. A tight white garment that shimmered sliver in the light rode low on her hips, exposing her smooth naval and all of her legs. Above it was an expanse of smooth midriff and the faint outline of ribs under flesh before meeting another silvered white garment, built much like that tank top but with wider straps and a much briefer span ending just below her breasts. Long, wide sleeves of a filmy silver color flowed down to her wrists. Her long curls had been left down and tumbled wildly down her back, over a pair of false white wings worn over her shoulders. She twisted a length of silver rope studded with glittering stars in the curls at her crown as she approached them, her smile lighting the dim room considerably.  
  
Kagome smiled, "Thanks for getting us in free. You look pretty amazing yourself!"  
  
Divia's smile expanded as she held out her arms, turning for them so they could see the scant extent of the costume. "Thanks. Though dancing in stuff like this still makes me a little nervous."  
  
"I can see why," Kagome nodded.   
  
All Miroku could see was how beautifully those silvered "shorts" hugged the contours of an incredible specimen of female posterior. He should know, being a self-taught expert. He glanced at Kagome trying to determine if he could get away with sampling the modern culture without her noticing, his hand twitching reflexively. The withering glare he received in return was enough to say his fingers, at least for now.  
  
"DIVIA!" A gruff voice called to them from across the floor.   
  
The three people in the party turned toward the direction of the voice. The man, if such a hulk of flesh could be called a man, stood at the same height as the formidably tall Sesshoumaru, but was perhaps twice the width of the youkai lord and far more liberal with the hostility in his stance. "Divia, your friends can stay but we've got investors on the floor and they want a preview when they do the walk though."  
  
Divia sighed, dusting a bit of glitter upon her cheekbones and chest from a compact in her hand. "Sorry guys, gotta get to work," she said as she snapped the case closed. "Thanks for coming and have fun," she called as she walked off to the giant man. "It's going to be long night isn't it Kaemon?" She said, incredibly comfortable and conversant with the giant who had no neck, at least as far as Miroku could see.   
  
The large man grasped Divia around the waist when she neared him, lifting her easily and setting her upon a platform suspended from the ceiling by two heavy iron cables. He settled next to her, his arms crossed menacingly across the incredible width of his chest as she took a moment to stretch, using the cables for assistance. It was then that Miroku noticed her shoes. They were unlike anything he had ever seen. Her feet were strapped into an arched silver platform, her heel forced far above her toes, her enter foot held aloft from the ground a good hand's width. Her foot was mostly bare save for a slim silver strap round her ankle and two broader ones criss-crossing around her toes. The footwear was definitely odd, but strangely…compelling. It seemed to enhance the length of her shapely legs and drew attention to the smooth curve of her instep and slim ankles.   
  
Finished with her stretches, Divia nodded to the booth they had passed upon entering. "Okay, whenever you're ready."  
  
There was a second of silence and then a pounding music burst all around them. Miroku cringed at the noise. It was odd, comprised of sounds he had never heard before laid atop breathy vocals and more traditional instruments. Kagome had previously explained the concept of "CDs" but he had not considered that they would reach this volume. The lights around them began to flash and swirl, leaving glittering trails of multicolored light sweeping across the floor in time to that driving, rib-rattling beat. His eyes followed a trail of blue light, his ears ringing, to a pair of rapidly moving silver toes.  
  
His jaw fell open at the sight that greeted him. There, upon the platform was Divia, moving, twisting, dancing to that driving music as though she stood directly atop the bass. Her body swirled sensually, bending and writhing in ways he had doubted but had always hoped possible. Had he been a lesser man he would have drooled when she spun around and arched back sharply, gripping one of the cables in her hand for support her hair flying wildly around her face as her head nearly brushed her heels. She mixed sharp, well-practiced synchronized movements with swirling, boneless, blatantly sexual motions that rolled though her entire curving, and now delightfully glistening, body. The dance was a long, teasing promise of the most shattering of intimate encounters. And the dangerous, alluring look she held upon her face as she moved seemed only to seal the promise. He officially never, ever wanted to go home again.  
  
The song seemed to break upon itself and come crashing down around them, bringing a moment of quiet, soft sounds of light instruments as the bass took a short break. Divia arrested too for a moment slowing on her platform. Languidly she reached for the cables above her, and began to climb them, scaling nimbly up a good 20 meters above the floor. She wrapped a long leg around the cable and leaned back, arching and stretching over their heads, riding the slow breath of the music. She performed several acrobatic contortions high above them over the course of the musical cool down, but the bass was soon back and she slid down the cable, back to her faster seduction only a few meters from the floor.  
  
"Isn't she amazing?" Kagome managed to penetrate his sweat sheened, lithe, curving, dipping, contorting, hip-swaying, did-she-just-slither-down-to-the-floor consciousness.  
  
"Truly incredible Kagome," he yelled back over the thunder of the music, "Do you think she'd bear…."  
  
"NO!" He was cut off loudly and abruptly, despite the music. "Don't you dare ask her either Miroku or else I'm telling Inuyasha you groped me as soon as we return."  
  
Miroku nodded sagely, not willing to call her on that particular threat. Visions of himself being hung by his ankles from tree-top by a very, very possessive hanyou quelled the question on his lips as the song ended.  
  
Kagome looked around herself anxiously, glancing around the empty club. "Miroku, I'm going to use the restroom, I'll be right back," she paused, giving him a warning glance, nervous about leaving him in such unfamiliar circumstances even for a few moments. "Behave yourself."  
  
"Of course Kagome," a look of indignation crosses his face at the suggestion he required supervision like a meddlesome child. "I'll be just fine. I await your return."  
  
She still looked a bit troubled when she left, but did so without any more conversation as another song began.   
  
Feeling a bit foolish standing in the large expanse of floor alone, Miroku sidled up to the edge of her platform. The large man had abandoned his post and was speaking to a group of people off in a far corner. Divia smiled at him warmly as he approached, executing a high-kick that would have done Sango proud, sweeping the long limb back for a quick turn.  
  
It seemed like fate then. He was so close, alone with this lithe, half dressed incarnation of most intimate and sensual movements of the enraptured feminine. Her back was turned and that lovely, curving anatomy was moving at speeds and in ways he never dared dream about, descending towards him…. Well, he might be a servant of the sacred and holy, but he, himself, was only human. The twitching hand was finally released from its bounds to alight on warm, firm, curving, taunting flesh….  
  
Miroku had a wealth of experience regarding many possible reactions of the offended female. He had been slapped, he had been bopped with fists, rapped with canes, and struck with branches, and he had even experience the singular sensation of that infernal boomerang crashing against his head more times than he wanted to think about. But the sensation of a 6-inch platform heel powered by the leg of a professional dancer crashing into his skull was novel experience that could only be found in this modern Japan. And, he reflected upon his back, a few feet from where he had started, waiting for the three concerned faces of Kagome to rejoin into one, an *incredibly* painful one.  
  
He had no idea what Kagome said, but he was grateful she was able to think of something quickly and make it appropriately convincing since the large man was leaning over him now too, looking decidedly more menacing. Luckily for him Divia truly was a sweet girl and willing to believe Kagome when she claimed Miroku came from a simpler place and had been misinformed by a treacherous friend with regards to the appropriate decorum to be used in clubs. Still, when he climbed to his feet, head ringing with tones not associated with the music, the woman standing upon the platform with her hands on her hips gave him an arch look that said clearly, "you deserved what you got."   
  
The large man eyed him suspiciously, not sure if he wanted to let the offense slide or not, but another stern look from Divia, made him grudgingly relinquish his hold upon the monk, but not before growling a warning. "Don't touch the dancers," his hand tightened on Miroku's arm, "You touch her or any of the others again and you deal with me." Sure he had the other man's full understanding, the bouncer roughly released Miroku and stepped back.  
  
Kagome, once she was sure he wasn't hurt, just did her best not to laugh at the Monk as she lead him to a table. "Sango is going to die when she hears this one…." And Kagome just could help but giggle at the thought.  
  
**********  
  
The rest of that night had been enjoyable, Miroku mused as he climbed back into the wilder simplicity of feudal Japan. The club had filled with young people and many a pretty young woman all of them filling the floor and dancing in a similar, if less skillful manner to Divia and the other gorgeous women who joined her on various platforms around the club. The crowded dance floor, he soon found, was a place than a wandering hand could easily be explained away as an "accident," and in some cases was actually encouraged. Still, it was nice to be back in the quiet of familiar surroundings, free from the baffling lights and unfamiliar rules of engagement in that world where a girl on the floor could be grabbed with impunity as long as it was done on tempo, but grabbing a girl on a platform resulted in a harsh beating from a very large man.  
  
He helped Kagome out of the well just as Inuyasha and the rest of their little group broke though the clearing, Inuyasha protesting their lateness and the weight of Kagome's bag, as Shippo clung affectionately and verbally provoked the hanyou. He stepped away from the commotion that greeted each of Kagome's returns, moving toward Sango.  
  
"How was it?" she asked, her curiosity about Kagome's world brimming in her voice.   
  
He considered her question for a moment before answering. "Very different," he replied finally, "so much is altered between our worlds. Kagome lives among wonders, but some things remain the same even so. There was much to be learned."  
  
"Oh," Sango looked at him somewhat skeptically, "and what did you learn? I'm sure it was a profound lesson about the pretty young women of that era."  
  
He looked at her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. "The most important lesson I learned was 'do not touch the dancers'." And with that he turned away, walking back to the village, glad to be home.  
  
Fin  
  
FYI: If you'd actually like to see house dancers scale steel cables then hang off of them 30 feet above the crowd, it can be done at Ikon, a club on Church Street Station, Orlando. Or at least you could a few months ago. Clubs move in and out of that area so quickly, I can't make any promises. 


End file.
